The Brother
by ladybrit
Summary: Many people pass through Dodge, sometimes they bring trouble with them.
1. Chapter 1

February 2013

**The Brother**

Chapter 1

Wilton Lemay was first and foremost a man who wanted to make money. For the most part he did this honestly by hard work and being one jump ahead of the next man. His latest venture was an enormous cattle ranch in south Texas. He really couldn't remember how many acres he owned, but he knew it took him almost two days to ride around the boundary. He had built a beautiful ranch home for himself, his wife and 2 children and now was looking for ways to increase his wealth. Cattle were cheap – even free in those early years if a man was willing to go out on the open range and herd up the strays. That was what Wilton and his younger brother Max had started out doing. All went well until one day the younger brother had ridden off.

Max Lemay had never been too enthusiastic about hard work. His brother Wilton was his senior by more than ten years and Max truly admired the man, even so after a while he decided that there must be easier and quicker ways to get rich. Accordingly he learned all he could about a deck of cards and taking a small amount of stake money left the ranch to start finding his own way in life. At first the riverboats provided the excitement and easy money he enjoyed, but then his name became known and the dealers were reluctant to have him on board. He left the river and headed west for the saloons of dusty mining towns in Colorado. There money from the mines flowed freely and gambling was a high stakes profession. His skills made him a small fortune but of necessity Max had learned other skills along the way, skills that involved a colt pistol in a fancy tooled holster worn low on his right hip. In these wild towns it was up to a man to defend himself and the further west he went the more those skills were needed.

While Wilton could be patient and careful in the way he made his money, Max wanted to accumulate his fortune as quickly as possible. The older Lemay understood the wild spirit in his brother and never tried to stop him, he only asked that the boy send regular communications so that he knew his whereabouts. Accordingly he had received letters and cards from his younger brother on a fairly regular basis during the year or more since he left. They first came from New Orleans then various stops along the Mississippi River as far as Memphis. After that Max obviously took a land route and headed southwest to Texas, he didn't stay there long because the next letter Wilton received came from Denver Colorado. Apparently he stayed in that area for several months after which he worked his way south again stopping at several dusty mining towns that were barely on the map. The last letter he had received from his younger brother, informed Wilton that 'the boy'– he always thought of his younger brother that way – was in Pueblo. Technically it was the last letter, a couple of months went by until finally a note arrived, with very brief wording saying simply that he was leaving Colorado and heading towards Dodge City, KS. The note looked like it had been written in a hurry. Another week passed with no communication and Wilton was beginning to worry about Max.

-()-()-()-

Jerry Jackson was a good ranch hand and also and excellent trail boss. At least that is what Lemay had been told when he hired the man last summer. So far it seemed to be true. The man worked hard, did what was expected of him and sometimes a little more, he also turned out to be good at handling the five other cowboys that worked the ranch.

This would be the first year that Wilton had considered sending cattle on a drive to be sold at the big stockyards. The previous 3 years he had spent building up his herd, now he was ready to start shipping them back east and make some money. He had heard that a good steer could bring as much as $40.00 at the railhead and with three thousand head that would be a lot of money.

It was just after the New Year celebrations that Wilton called Jerry Jackson to the big ranch house. Wilton was a tall, brown haired man of stocky build, about forty years of age. His manner was pleasant enough but he always seemed to have so much energy behind him that he could not stand still in one place for longer than a few minutes. Jackson was shorter and of a much quieter disposition. He always looked a little scruffy with a few days growth of beard on his face. His hands were roughened by the work he did, and his clothes showed similar wear. He had the quiet confidence of a man who knew he could take care of himself.

Wilton Lemay started the conversation from behind the big mahogany desk upon which he had set a map showing Texas, showing several of the cattle trails that led all the way up to Wichita, Kansas. Most herds were trailed to Abilene, KS, and this was the point to which Jackson had led many drives over the previous five years. Now this ranch owner wanted his cattle taken all the way to Dodge City of all places.

Jackson was about five years younger than Lemay. He had lived most of his life outside in the harsh Texas landscape, on the prairie, the scrubland or even north in the hill country. He had been on a dozen or more cattle drives in his time and had been trail boss on at least eight of them. His first three drives had been straight up the Shawnee trail to Sedalia Missouri, but when that route was closed down he had traveled the so called Chisholm Trail and driven herds to Abilene, Kansas. He was so familiar with the terrain between south Texas and Abilene that he did not need to look at the map that Wilton Lemay had laid out before them.

"Mr. Wilton that is a lot of extra miles on those beeves, there is no reason to take them that far, why head west to Dodge when we can go straight up the Chisholm."  
"I'm telling you Jackson, I want it done this way. I have my reasons."

He came in front of the desk and pointed at a line on the map.

"All you have to do is to push the cows along the Chisholm trail just like usual, then after you cross the Cimarron you take the cut off that takes you to Dodge City. I plan to meet you there."

"I'll need a good scout then, Mr. Lemay. I have never been that far west, but if there's good pay in it for me and the men, we'll take those steers any where you want."

The terms were agreed on and the two men shook hands.

It took a good four weeks for all the arrangements to be made. Jackson knew how to get a trail drive together; he had done it so many times before. He always looked forward to the challenges. What other people thought of as hardships on the long ride, he thought of as the comforts of home. He enjoyed sleeping under the stars and eating round the cook's campfire. Even the storms, the dry creek beds or the floods all held a special fascination for him. Most of all he enjoyed riding night patrol, just quietly circling the herd, listening to their soft grunts and bellows while being buried in his own thoughts. It gave a man time to think and space to be at peace. Of course there were bad times when everything seemed to go wrong, stampedes, flooded rivers, violent storms, but even these had their own special meaning for him. He had never married, oh he had met several women that he had thought he loved, but the call of the trail was so strong for him that he knew there was no way he could survive the containment of living in one place for any length of time or the permanent commitment to another human being.

He figured that for this drive he would about fifteen drovers, a cook with a wagon load of supplies, and a scout. He had enough connections that all of this was arranged quickly and efficiently so that towards the middle of February the drovers he had hired began arriving at the ranch and the herd was ready to set off.

Jackson agreed to send telegrams back to the ranch whenever he hit a town along the way that was big enough to have a telegraph office, so that Lemay could plot their progress.

Two months later, Wilton got word that his herd was on the final leg of its trip but still the rancher had received no word from his brother "the boy". He decided it was time to head out towards Dodge City. Of necessity he would be taking the stage for the most part of his trip. He did not look forward to that, but other than riding his own horse all the way there was little alternative.

-()-()-()-

In Dodge City the spring cattle drives had already begun arriving. The Marshal had just released two drovers from the jail that morning. They had downed a little too much whisky the night before and got into a fight at the Texas Trail saloon.

This was only the second drive of the season, and they could expect at least five or six more before the summer heat put a stop to most of the cattle business.

For Marshal Dillon it was a time of hectic nights, some of which lasted until daybreak the following morning. In an effort to catch up on needed sleep he would often cat nap on the boardwalk outside the office in the mid morning hours. The warmth from the sun was pleasant at this time of year and made dozing easy. He was leaning his chair back against the brick wall, with his hat pulled well down over his face when he heard the midday stage arrive. Usually he would go to meet it just to see who was coming to Dodge, but today he decided to stay right where he was. About a half hour passed before he felt the presence of someone standing in front of him. At first he thought it was Doc coming to chide him for sleeping there, but the voice he heard was definitely not that of his long time friend.

"Are you the Marshal here?"  
Reluctantly Matt straightened his chair, pushed his hat back and looked up at the man standing in front of him.

"Who's looking for him?"

The man reached out his hand "Wilton Lemay."

"Matt Dillon," the Marshal replied, standing up and reaching out his hand. "What can I do for you?"

"I was looking for someone, Marshal, and wondered if you had seen him here in Dodge."

"What's his name?"  
"Max Lemay, he's my younger brother. The last letter I got from him said he was headed this way."  
"Where was he coming from?"  
"Most likely from Pueblo, Colorado."

"Can't say the name means anything to me, of course a lot of people come and go through Dodge that I never get to see or even hear of."

"I am staying at the Dodge House for now, so if you happen to come across him I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know. I have a herd of about 3000 head that should be arriving in the next few days, so I'm going to be down at the stock yards much of the time."

"Who's your trail boss?"

"Fella by the name of Jerry Jackson."  
"I've heard he's a good man," Matt stopped for a second and smiled at a distant memory, "but doesn't he usually go into Abilene?"  
"Yes, but I thought I might get a better price by bringing them here."

The conversation was over and Wilton Lemay walked away and crossed the street, heading for the Dodge House.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**The Brother**

Chapter 2

Maxim Lemay had enjoyed his time on the river boats and made a good bit of money, but he was becoming too well known and the dealers were too wary of playing against him. The young man left the river at Memphis and headed south and west. For a while he found plenty of opportunity to make easy money in towns like Abilene, Texas where there were plenty of drovers fresh off the trail with money in their pockets and enough whisky in their bellies to soften their brains. Then there was the time when Maxim had been called out by one of those cowboys, claiming that he was cheating. His skill with the colt pistol was almost equal to his skill with the cards and he defended his name, and his winnings with relative ease. After that happened he had left Texas and headed north. He heard that there was money in the mining towns in Colorado and figured that some of it could soon belong to him.

He started off in Denver, but after a week or so he left the big city for the mining town of Idaho Springs to the west. The money seemed in endless supply and he found it reasonably easy to outwit the miners that frequented the saloons there. Eventually they became tired of his taking all their hard earned gold and banded together to chase him out of town. He decided to lay low for a while and made his way south till he found the small town of Pueblo, which was to become the location of Max's last big game. He was playing in a high stakes game with a man named Lou Gannon. He thought the man was just a dealer in hides in this remote part of the country, but soon found himself falling behind in the game. Without realizing what had happened, he found himself several thousand dollars in debt. It turned out that Gannon was more than a dealer in hides, he owned one of the biggest cattle ranches outside the state of Texas. It was located to the east of Pueblo near Fort Lyon, a desolate wide spot on the old Santa Fe Trail. Soon Max found himself doing ranch work once again, only this time it was to work off the gambling debt he owed Gannon. The other ranch hands were mostly a tough bunch of Texans and a few outlaws who for some reason became indebted to Mr. Lou Gannon. Max quickly became the center of many arguments. Fortunately his skill with the Colt Pistol saw him through but it also brought him to the notice of Lou Gannon.

The big ranch owner came to the bunkhouse one night looking for Max. As usual he had his two big bodyguards with him, but he told them to back away – that he needed to talk with Max alone.

"I've watched you with that gun, Lemay, and you are pretty fast. I have a deal to put to you. The way I figure it, it is going to take another two years for you to work off this debt you owe me, but I can offer you one simple job that will wipe the slate clean."

Needless to say the younger man was interested. He hated hard work, and if he had to work on a ranch he would rather it be the one that he and Wilton had started.

"I'm listening," he said without much enthusiasm.

"There is a little problem in Dodge City that prevents me from going there to do business and if you agree to go take care of it for me I figure it will even up the debt you owe me – then you will be free to go your own way."

"What is it you want done?"

"I'm not telling you now. In a week or so I will send you and Dragg Billings to take care of it. While you are there he will explain it to you."

Dragg was one of Gannon's bodyguards, a big bull of a man, with a temperament to match, Max didn't like him but at this point he would agree to anything to get away from Gannon's clutches.

"It sounds a fair deal to me."

After the boss had left, Max found some paper and envelope and wrote a brief note to mail to his brother. He had become friendly with one of the young girls that worked in the kitchen at the ranch house and intended to persuade her to mail it for him next time she went into town for supplies.

Several more weeks went by before Dragg Billings and Max Lemay left for Dodge. It was a ride that would take them about five or six days. Max was not thrilled at the prospect of spending so much time with Gannon's henchman, but it did not turn out to be so bad. The man was a sullen individual and conversation between the two men was minimal. Their routine varied little, they would break camp around sunup and after a basic breakfast, ride for three or four hours before stopping to give the horses a break. In the evening they would camp again and Dragg would go off to find small game, or fish from a creek for their evening meal. Meanwhile Max gathered wood and built a fire, but even sitting there, sharing food and coffee, sometimes with a little whisky, they spoke very little.

Finally on the sixth afternoon they saw Dodge City in the distance. It was late afternoon by the time the pair rode down Front Street and Max was impressed by the sheer number of cowboys and drovers just hanging around the town. There seemed to be a lot of activity in all the saloons, there was even a line of men waiting outside the Tonsorial Parlor, presumably for a haircut and shave, maybe even a bath after all those weeks on the trail.

"I guess the herds have already started arriving." Dragg told him. "I'll get us a room at the Dodge House then I'll show you around."

Dragg took care of stabling the horses and getting a room because Max had no money in his pocket, Gannon had seen to that. He wondered if Wilton ever got his note. If his older brother was here he could get him out of this mess for sure. Wilton always knew what to do.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The stockyards were a noisy smelly place but to Wilton Lemay the unpleasantness was part of the business. The auctions were going well and he was selling his cattle at a good price. Jerry Jackson was happy – while the drovers he had hired were paid on a daily rate, he received a percentage of the sale price fetched by the beeves. Now, he thought, he could see the wisdom of spending those extra days on the trail to bring the stock here where prices where so much better. Mr. Lemay had obviously known what he was doing. Of course he knew nothing of Wilton's quest to find his brother.

The auction went on well into the night keeping Wilton busy, but by then Dragg was already taking Max round the saloons, pointing out various land marks in Dodge.

They finished up at a saloon called the Long Branch. It seemed more crowded than the others and Max thought the saloon girls were prettier. There was a Faro table going strong but of more interest to him were the two tables where groups of cowboys where drinking and playing cards, both seemed to be high stake games and if only he had some money he could get in on one.

Dragg came up to the bar beside him and ordered two beers, which the barkeep set in front of them, they raised their beer mugs and turned to face the room.

"Dragg, how about lending me some money to get in on a game, I know I can earn it back – even pay you interest."  
The bull of a man looked at him and laughed, "I thought that's what got you into this mess in the first place." He slapped his hand on his tree trunk of a thigh, laughing heartily at his own joke.

They stood there a few minutes longer until one of the women came over to the bar and exchanged words with the barkeep. Max couldn't help but notice her. She had an air of confidence and wasn't dressed in the usual saloon girl attire. What he noticed most of all was the red hair and her sparkling blue eyes. Most of the men around seemed to treat her with a little more respect than they did the other girls and he heard them call her Miss Kitty.

He suddenly became aware of an elbow digging him in the ribs.

"That's who Mr. Gannon wants you to take care of for him."

Max froze, he had killed several men in fair fights, but he had never killed a woman.

He felt Dragg push him towards the door and speak in his ear. "We won't discuss it here, head back to the hotel."

-()-()-()-

The Long Branch continued to do all the business that Sam and Clem could handle. Kitty kept her eye on the new Faro dealer and also managed to watch the two poker games that were underway. She wanted to make sure there was no cheating going on, the Marshal had been kept busy resolving fights and arguments for the previous three evenings and she didn't want any trouble breaking out tonight. It was well after midnight before the crowds started to disperse and her tired cowboy looked over the batwing doors, scanning the faces inside.

She smiled at him as he walked in and made his way to a table in the back. She watched him as he sat down and wearily removed his hat to lay it on the chair next to him then lifted a tired hand and drug his fingers through those dense dark curls. She brought her mind back from where it was going and turned to the barkeep,

"Sam two beers please."

She picked up both mugs and made her way over to the table.

"It's been a rough few nights, Matt."

"Yep and it's not going to get better any time soon, there's another herd about to hit town day after tomorrow." He smiled at her before lifting the beer mug to his lips, "good for your business though, you must be getting rich."

She laughed, "Well it does make up for all those bad nights we've had lately."

There was an easy silence between them for a while as both enjoyed the coolness of the liquid they were drinking. A tall, stocky, well-dressed man entered the saloon and approached the Marshal interrupting their companionable silence.

Kitty tensed for a moment, always wary of people she didn't recognize appearing like that.

Matt saw the tension in her eyes and lifted his gaze to see Wilton Lemay standing there.

"Oh Lemay come and join us. Kitty Russell this is Wilton Lemay, he owns the big herd that arrived in town today, I guess you've sold most of them by now," he added turning to face the newcomer.

Lemay tipped his hat, "Pleased to meet you Miss Russell."

"Just call me Kitty," the red head smiled at him, relieved that he was nothing worse than a cattle rancher.

"Yes just about 500 head left to auction off in the morning. We did pretty well so far."

"Your trail hands were happy," Kitty commented, "I think everyone of them has been in here emptying his pockets out."

They all laughed.

"Any sign of my brother yet, Marshal?"

"No I can't say I've seen him anywhere – but the description you gave me could fit many of the cowboys who show up here on a given night."  
"There's a good chance he would finish up in a saloon like this – he likes to play poker. Miss Kitty maybe you might have seen him, his name is Max Lemay, he's a little shorter than I am, slim build, clean shaven, often dresses like a gambler."

"I'll keep an eye out for him," she promised.

Matt finished his beer and then excused himself saying he had to go make his evening rounds. "I'll stop by later," he promised Kitty.

-()-()-()-

In a room at the Dodge House Max Lemay was arguing with Gannon's henchman.

"Look Dragg, I have never killed a woman, and don't think I can. What did she do to make the Boss want to put her away, anyhow?"

Billings goes over and looks through the window. Front Street is dark except for a few remaining lanterns still burning in some of the saloons.

"Come here a minute Max." The younger man gets up and comes to join him.

"See that man down there," he points to a tall man walking along the boardwalk with long strides and trying the doors on all the business establishments to make sure they were locked up tight. "He is the Marshal here, his name's Matt Dillon."

Max looks up at his companion. "So what?"

"I'm Just telling you so's you'll know."  
The young man looks at him curiously.

"Mr. Gannon used to come to this town quite often. Even before the cattle business made it rich, there were Buffalo traders here. Thousands of hides were bought and sold, there was a lot of money to be made, and Lou Gannon was out there making it. One day several years ago now, that man," he pointed to the window, "rode into town determined to make this a law abiding place. It wasn't long afterwards that the trail drives started coming here and then saloons and gambling opened up. Mr. Gannon was doing alright for himself, trading hides and playing poker. One night some customer complained to that red head over there at the Long Branch that he was cheating. I wasn't working for Mr. Gannon then but the way he tells it she worked her way into the game and finished up taking him for a small fortune. Some other cowboy thought it was funny to watch a woman take down Lou Gannon, especially when she showed how he was dealing off the bottom of the deck and pulled a few cheating moves of her own on him. The cowboys around the table started laughing and Mr. Gannon pulled his gun, then, just as he was going to defend his honor, that big Marshal I showed you came bursting his way in. Well he threw the Boss in jail for the night and next day made him leave town and told him never to come back. Mr. Gannon felt he was treated too harshly and he needs to get back at both of them for that, no one makes a fool out of Lou Gannon and gets away with it." Billings stopped to take a breath, then continued, "He wants that woman and the Marshal dead. That way he can come back to Dodge and make himself some big money."

"There are plenty of other towns he can go to gamble," Max tried to point out.

"I guess that is so, but the way Mr. Gannon sees it, he has every right to come to Dodge to set the record straight."

"You mean he wasn't cheating?"

"I don't know about that, one way or the other."  
Max thought back to his big loss to Lou Gannon and considered it very possible that the man had been cheating, although at the time he hadn't considered it. He thought about the whole situation for a while. Somehow he needed out of this mess, but he knew that Dragg was not a man he could take on.

"So what did you have planned Dragg?"

"I was here a few months ago and found out that the job would not be as tough as I once thought. Seems like the Marshal and the Redhead are, well, kind of friendly. Sometimes they go off together for a ride on the prairie or a picnic by the river. That man is too fast even for you to take in a fair fight so we will just have to find another way. I figured we'll watch and when they go out of town on one of their cozy little trips, we'll just follow, and take care of both of them in one go, where no one will see. Nothing fancy, just ride up, shoot and then we'll be on our way home."

"You mean an ambush."

"Yeh unless you've got a better idea."

"Look Dragg, this is all wrong, I don't like killing a woman, or shooting someone in the back. I've never done that and don't intend to start now."

"The way I see it you don't have much choice. Now let's get some rest. We've got work to do."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Brother**

Chapter 4

The morning was quiet after all the celebrating the trail hands did the night before.

Not many of the tables in Delmonico's were occupied and Joe, the old waiter, was making use of the time to change out the checkered cloths.

Kitty and Matt were eating a late breakfast together, eggs and steak and coffee. Not the best either of them had ever had but it was what it was.

"Tell you what Kitty, it seems I've been working day and night for the last two weeks. The town should be quiet till tomorrow when that next herd arrives, how about you and I take off for a few hours and go fishing."

"Sounds good to me Matt." It wasn't often the Marshal thought of leaving town for a few hours so she was only to happy to accept.

"All right, I'll get a buggy from Moss and come by in an hour or so and get you."

-()-()-()-

Wilton Lemay slept late that morning. He had sold all his cattle and made a good profit, the only thing that had not gone right for him was that he had not seen Max, nor had he met anyone who had even heard of him.

Jerry Jackson was planning to make his way back to Texas. He had kept three of the best horses from the remuda and had a spare saddle and trail rig stored at the livery, so Wilton would ride one, at least part way with him. If nothing else it would break the monotony of another stagecoach ride. He gathered up the few belongings he had brought with him and packed them in a small carpetbag. Looking at his watch he saw he had about two hours before meeting Jackson at the livery, that left him time for breakfast. As he approached Delmonico's he saw the Marshal and Miss Kitty leaving. They exchanged pleasantries and Wilton told Dillon he was getting ready to leave town.

"My business is finished here, maybe I'll see you next year. Dodge City has been a very profitable cattle market for me. I never did find my brother though."  
"I'll certainly keep an eye out for him, Lemay," Dillon volunteered, "And Kitty here will tell me if he turns up at the Long Branch."  
"Thank you both very much. It is of course possible that he had a change of plans and never came this way at all, so I am not too worried."

In fact Wilton was worried. It was not like Max to just loose contact like he had done.

After breakfast Lemay walked back to the Dodge House. Looking down the street towards the Long Branch he watched as the Marshal pulled a horse and Buggy to a stop in front of the saloon, then he watched as the man got down and helped Kitty Russell to climb aboard. The pair of them drove off heading west and he smiled to himself before continuing on to the Dodge House to get his things and settle his account.

It was getting on towards mid morning before he made his way to the livery. He was about half way there when he saw two men on horseback leaving. He just saw them from the back, one was a very large man, but the other – he could be mistaken of course – but the other looked like Max, so much so that he couldn't help but call out.

As he watched, it seemed like the big man urged the other to a gallop, not letting him stop or turn back. By the time he made it to the livery both men were out of sight. Moss Grimmick was there with Jackson's horses tacked up and ready to leave.

"Who were those men that just left Moss? I thought I recognized one of them."

"Strangers to me Mr. Lemay. The big man's name is Dragg Billings, never did get the other man's name, don't think I even saw him till today. Everything all right?"  
"Yeh I guess so, I just thought I recognized one of them, but I must have been mistaken."

-()-()-()-

It was a late spring morning as Matt drove the buggy to Silver Creek. It had been weeks since Kitty and he had found time to sneak a few hours away from Dodge, and both of them knew that with the cattle season well under way it may be several weeks before they got to do it again. This time of year the Prairie was a beautiful place, not so hot that it scorched every blade of grass out there and not so dry that the soil would turn to dust that invaded every part of life.

There was a place the Marshal knew well, a small area where Silver Creek turned north for about half a mile, before taking a gentle curve back to the south. There in the bend of the stream was a shallow bank leading down to the water sheltered by a fairly thick stand of cottonwoods. He thought that there in the shade from the trees the fishing should be good.

He drove the buggy off the trail for the last mile or so until he reached the place he was aiming for. Helping Kitty down, he handed her the picnic basket and then reached for the fishing poles.

"Oh Matt," Kitty murmured looking around, "this is a perfect place, when did you find it?"

"Some while ago when I was coming back from Cimarron, I stopped here to water the buckskin and saw several big catfish just lying there amongst the rocks in that patch of shallow water," he pointed to his left. "I planned then to come back one day and try to catch a couple."

They spread the old quilt on the ground and Kitty set about arranging the picnic while Dillon arranged the lines and baited the hooks.

It wasn't long before they lay there side by side in the pleasant afternoon sun, just allowing time to stand still for a while.

-()-()-()-

Drag Billings paid Moss for boarding the horses and then led them outside where Max was waiting. After adjusting the cinch on his horse, Dragg mounted up and told Max to do the same. They headed west out of town following the route the Marshal had taken. Max was looking for a way out of this, he did not hold with shooting a woman, or ambushing a man and shooting him in the back. Just as they were leaving he thought he heard a familiar voice calling his name, but Dragg prevented him from turning round to check and urged both the horses into a gallop that they kept up until they were well clear of the town.

"I think that was someone calling my name back there," Max complained.  
"Exactly – did you want someone to know you'd been here, we need to get this job done and get on home before anyone recognizes us."

Max was almost certain he had heard Wilton calling him, if only he could get away from Billings he might stand a hope of getting out of this mess.

"How much is Gannon paying you to get this job done," he asked when finally they slowed down to a fast walk.

"None of your business."  
"It is my business, you are putting my neck on the line. Killing a US Marshal will set all the law in Kansas on us."  
"That's why we'll be headed back to Colorado as soon as the job is done."

"Don't you see, they'll have the Marshal's service after us whether we're in Kansas, Colorado or anywhere else. Don't you want to get away from Gannon just let me have some money and I can get plenty more, I can pay you more than he promised you and you'll be free to go anywhere."  
"Can't do that Lemay. Lou Gannon sent us to do a job and if we don't take care of it he'll have men come after us who will be a lot worse than the Marshal's service. You are free to leave once the job is done but not before."

Max knew that alone he could not take Dragg Billings unless he could get him into a stand-up gunfight.

-()-()-()-

Wilton Lemay was waiting at the big wooden door to the livery stable when Jerry Jackson walked up. He was still watching the place where a small cloud of dust marked the progress of the two riders heading off into the distance.

"Someone you know?" asked Jackson seeing that his boss was staring out into the prairie.

"I thought so, but maybe not. I thought it could be my brother Max, but I don't know who the other man is."

"We can head out that way if you like, boss."

"Maybe that would be a good idea, then I'd know for sure."

They checked the rig on their horses and paid Moss for the board and then in the early afternoon sun, they headed west after the two horsemen.

-()-()-()-

Matt had the fishing poles set up and Kitty had arranged the blanket and set out the picnic basket. The water in the stream was crystal clear and the afternoon sun was pleasantly warm, even so Dillon felt something was wrong. A lawman's instinct or a sixth sense, something kept nagging at the back of his mind. It had been that way since they were about half way from Dodge. He kept turning round and staring back up the trail they had come on, but could see nothing unusual.

"What's the matter Matt?" Kitty could feel that something was distracting him.

The two poles he had set were perfectly still, with no movement to indicate a catch. The air was stirred only by the gentlest of breezes and there was no sound except for the water creeping slowly over the rocks in the creek.

"Matt!" she said again realizing he had not heard her. He turned to her almost in surprise.

"I'm sorry Kitty, what did you say?"  
"I asked if something was wrong."

He didn't want to spoil the day, it was so rarely that they managed to get out of town together.

"No I'm sorry Kitty I was just thinking about something. Come on let's eat, there's something about being out here that gives me an appetite."

She didn't quite believe him, but watched as he started hungrily on the sandwiches and opened the bottle of wine. She joined him as they toasted their good fortune at finding an afternoon to share, and pushed any doubts aside.

The meal was finished and nothing had happened to confirm his instinct of danger so the Marshal removed his gun belt and lay down next to the woman he loved. For a while they were watching the few clouds that drifted across the Kansas sky. Then all of a sudden Kitty called out

"Matt!" The Lawman instinctively reached for the gun, which was no longer on his hip.

"No," she laughed, pointing at the fishing poles "I think you've caught something."  
He looked at the fishing poles he had almost forgotten about, and managed to grab the one nearest to him that was dancing all over the place. Skillfully he hauled in a large catfish, "now that will make a good supper," he said with pride as he produced a knife from his pocket to start cleaning the catch. It was then, just by chance, that his eyes caught a flash of movement in the bushes a little further up stream. He yelled, "Get down Kitty," at the same time the loud crack of a rifle being fired destroyed the quiet air around them. He threw himself forward intending to shield Kitty and at the same time reach across the picnic quilt to retrieve his gun. It was then that a second shot quickly followed the first.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**The Brother**

Chapter 5

Max Lemay and Dragg Billings followed the same trail that Matt and Kitty had ridden about an hour before. Max was tempted to call his companion out, and have a gunfight right there on the prairie – but Billings never let his guard down and the opportunity never arose. Eventually they came to the place where the buggy had pulled off the trail.

"We'll leave the horses here," Dragg declared as he dismounted and tied his mount to a tree. Max did as he was told, but all the time he was looking for a way out of this. The pair moved quietly forward, keeping low, until they could see the couple they'd been following finishing up their picnic. They watched as Dillon got up to tend the fishing lines.

Billings reached out and grabbed Max by the arm.

"Now's our chance, just one shot and you are free Lemay, don't mess it up. Come on up here, I'm gonna take the Marshal and you take the woman, got it?"

Reluctantly Max Lemay took up his position and aimed his gun. Maybe if he closed his eyes for a second he could do it.

"Are you ready? - we'll only get one go at this."

Billings had his rifle raised and in position.

"Now!" he grunted.

The instant the shell left Billings' rifle he became aware that Lemay had not fired, he had half expected it. He saw the big Marshal dive to the ground and thought he had hit him, almost immediately he worked the lever on the Winchester to feed a fresh cartridge into the barrel and let off a second shot, this time aimed at the woman. He was hampered because the lawman's body was shielding her, but he figured he might get lucky. He knew all along that if necessary he could take care of the job by himself, he never did understand why Mr. Gannon had enlisted the help of Lemay anyway. He kept watching for movement from the two bodies downstream, feeling hopeful that he had finished the job, at the same time he reloaded the rifle just in case it was needed again.

-()-()-()-

Wilton and Jerry Jackson left Dodge behind them and took the trail in the direction that Lemay had seen the other riders take.

"I was just so certain that the man I saw was Max, now maybe I'm beginning to doubt it."

"It won't take us long to catch them up then we'll know for sure." Jackson told him.

Lemay had a great deal of confidence in his trail boss. The man was rough and not well educated, for sure, but he had a confidence about him that came from many years of driving men and animals alike along endless miles of trail. He was well able to handle any situation thrown at him.

The trail was fairly easy to follow – although Wilton had to admit that he would not have found it quite so readily. Jackson studied the ground and as he got back on his horse he looked towards his boss. "I think they are following the tracks of a buggy."

Lemay was none to sure how the man could tell that, but had enough confidence to believe his words. They rode in silence for almost an hour, Jackson would rein in his horse now and again and lean from the saddle to make sure they were still following the right tracks, finally he dismounted and studied the ground again.

"Looks like that buggy and the two riders turned off the trail here Mr. Lemay. You want to keep following?"  
"We've come this far, let's keep going."

The tracks were harder to follow through the grass but at last they could see the buggy parked in a stand of cottonwoods not far from a slow flowing creek. Both men got off their horses and secured them to some bushes. Lemay let his eyes wander carefully along the creek bank. He saw them, "It's the Marshal and Miss Kitty from the Long Branch," he said – he had felt all along that there was something more than a casual friendship between the two. He was about to call out and go down to visit when Jackson pulled on his arm, "Quiet," he warned, "there is someone else hiding over there in the bushes."

The words were hardly out of his mouth before a rifle shot split the air, followed closely by another and then a woman's scream.

They became aware of a scuffle and the sound of punches being thrown coming from the bushes that Jackson had pointed out. Wilton was certain he could here Max's voice now, and it sounded as though he was involved in a fierce fight.

Jackson drew his gun and ran through the undergrowth towards the source of the noise. Wilton Lemay was not carrying a gun but followed closely in Jackson's wake.

The cattleman arrived on the scene in time to see his brother being struck over the head with a rifle butt by a much bigger man.

"You coward," the bigger man yelled. "Just wait till Mr. Gannon hears what you did. It would probably be better for you if I killed you right here."

Max fell to the ground and a long bloody slash on the side of his head became visible.

"That's my brother," Wilton told his trail boss.

Jackson ran forward gun in hand.

"Drop that rifle and back away from him, before I shoot," the cowboy yelled.  
Billings was still holding the weapon but seemed uncertain about what to do with it. He didn't know this man. Although Jackson was a much smaller man, he was toughened by the many years he had spent surviving the hardships of cattle drives, and Billings could see a look in the man's eyes that told him whoever this stranger was, he would shoot if he needed to. He was holding the rifle by the barrel – having just slugged Max with it and he knew this newcomer could get off a shot easily before he would have time to turn it round and fire.

"Who are you Mister?" Billings asked, carefully backing away so as to consider his options. He was not a brave man and usually relied on his size to intimidate. Obviously that was not going to work this time.

Wilton knelt down beside his brother.

"Max, what is going here?" The boy had been stunned by the vicious blow to the head but he seemed to recognize Wilton. He reached out his hand and grasped his brother's arm.

"Am I glad to see you?" After he uttered those words he closed his eyes once more.

Jackson took a moment to spare the two brothers a glance. Then he looked at his boss.

"Mr. Lemay, go get the rope off my saddle for me."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**The Brother**

Chapter 6

Kitty fell to the ground when the considerable weight of the Marshal landed on top of her but before she had time to complain, she heard the loud crack of a rifle followed almost immediately by the sound being repeated a second time. She felt Matt's sharp intake of breath and the thud of impact as the second shot found its target.

"No!" she screamed, trying to wriggle out from underneath him. Her hand reached up and felt the warm stickiness of blood coming from the back of his shoulder.

" Matt?"

"I'm all right," he answered trying to lift himself off of her. "Don't get up, Kitty, just stay low, and work your way over to those bushes." She could feel him tense as he tried to move, and heard a soft groan escape his lips.

He managed to reach his gun and rolled onto his back so that he could see the place where the shot came from. He fully expected another round of shooting to start, but so far he heard nothing.

Kitty could see the extent of the wound in his right shoulder. A spreading flare of crimson was quickly covering the back of his shirt, it was the blue one, the one she liked so much, and the crazy thought ran through her mind that he had probably worn it to please her, the irony of that made her smile. She saw him grip his injured shoulder with his left hand and watched as the red streaks worked their way between his fingers and down the upper part of his arm.

He started to stand, and then they both heard raised voices come from the bushes upstream. She came closer and gripped his good arm. "What's going on Matt?"

"I don't know but you better stay out of sight."

He was walking in the direction of the sounds but before he covered more than three or four steps, someone was walking from that direction towards him. He had his gun ready in his left hand.

"Marshal, Marshal Dillon it's me Wilton Lemay, don't shoot."

The man drew level with him.

"I found my brother, he's back up there with Jerry Jackson and a man named Dragg Billings. He's the one who shot you, Marshal."

"What was your brother doing out here?" Matt raised his hand to his head as a wave of dizziness caught him. Kitty came over to him.

"I think you better sit down, Matt, you're bleeding pretty badly." She pointed to a large sized tree limb lying close by.

He didn't argue, he could feel the warm trickle of blood making its way down his arm.

"It sounds like I need to talk with Mr. Billings," the Marshal told Lemay. "What happened to your brother?"

" Billings hit him over the head with a rifle butt, he's a little groggy right now but I think he'll be all right."

"I'll need to talk to him as well."

While he was speaking Kitty had been busy fashioning a dressing and a makeshift sling from the large checkered napkins that came with the picnic basket. Dillon tightened his jaw as she eased his arm into the sling.

"Sorry Matt, but I think it will better that way – less movement in your shoulder."  
"Thanks Kitty, it feels better now."

He experimented a little with the position of his arm and then carefully got to his feet.

"Let's go over to where your brother is Wilton, and let me hear this story for myself."

Slowly they made their way upstream to where Jackson was still holding Billings. By the time they got there the trail boss had the big man hogtied and was trying to help Max over to a tree so he could lean against it. He looked up when he saw the two men approaching.

"Well Matt Dillon, I haven't seen you in a long time, I must have missed you in Dodge – busy paying off my men and all. I'd heard you were a lawman now."

"Good to see you Jerry, Wilton had told me you drove those 3000 head up here from his place in southern Texas."

As he spoke the Marshal walked over to where Billings was tied.

"So what's your name mister?"

Dragg thought about lying for an instant – then he had what he thought was a better idea.

"Dragg Billings Marshal."  
"And what are you doing out here."

"I just met up with that man," he indicated Max Lemay, "and rode along the trail with him a while, then he turned off here so I followed and when I saw him raise that rifle and shoot at you. I tried to stop him."

Matt looked at Jackson.  
"That's not quite what we saw Matt. When we ran over here, these two men were fighting, Billings here was holding the rifle."

"That's because I had just taken it away from him," Billings explained.

Somehow Matt didn't believe him, but he did not feel like trying to sort it out now.

"I'm taking you both into Dodge and then, when that boy comes to, we can sort it out."  
"I'm sure he'll lie to you Marshal," Billings replied smugly.

Dillon was feeling light headed again. His shoulder was pounding and his vision was beginning to blur.

"Jerry, I hate to ask you but would you do me a favor and help me see this man back to Dodge." Jackson had to think for a moment. Although he had never murdered or committed any other major crime he was not a fan of the law. He was used to handling problems that arose between his men on the trail with his own brand of justice and considered the law as an intrusion on his personal affairs.h Still he knew that Dillon was a fair man by reputation and could see that there was no way that the Marshal was going to get Billings back to Dodge without his help.

"Sure Marshal – but then I'm leaving to head back to Texas. Don't want any of my men to hear I've been helping the Kansas Law."

"Wilton," Matt turned to the other man, "I've got a buggy over there where you found us. Go help Kitty pack up our stuff and bring it over here. She can drive your brother back to town. I'll ride his horse if you and Jackson can deal with Billings. Oh and bring that rifle too." He managed to point to the weapon lying on the ground near the hogtied man.

He found a tree to sit and lean against while the men set about taking care of his requests.

Max was still totally out of it by the time the buggy arrived and it took Wilton and Jackson both to get him situated.

"Kitty I want you to take him to Doc's, let's see how bad that head wound is – I need to talk to him."  
"Are you planning to ride back?"  
"Guess I'll have to, there's not room up there for three, and he's certainly not able to stay on a horse. I'll be fine."

The party finally got mounted up. Kitty could see the pain on the Marshal's face as he put forth all his effort to swing up into the saddle. He sat there for a moment or two trying to gather his senses.

Jackson had untied Billings enough for him to mount up, still protesting his innocence, then the trail boss efficiently secured his hands to the saddle horn so there was no way he could attempt an escape.

Wilton Lemay tied the remaining remuda horse to the back of the buggy and they moved off.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**The Brother**

Chapter 7

For the first half of the ride all went fairly well, but as time and the miles passed by, Kitty noticed that Matt was lagging further behind. She stopped the buggy.

"One of you men go check on him please."

Wilton rode back and could see that Dillon was struggling to stay in the saddle. Every step the horse took jarred his shoulder and released more blood to work its way down his back and arm, by now there were even red blotches where it had dripped onto his pants and saddle.

Lemay took the water canteen from his rig and encouraged the lawman to drink some. Matt opened his bleary eyes and looked around. Even through the haze that blurred his vision, he could tell by the landscape that it would be about another thirty more minutes before they'd be in Dodge.

The cattleman saw that the Marshal was about all in, he reached over and took the reins from Matt's left hand.

"You just hang onto that saddle horn and we'll make it," he said none too convincingly.

As they drew level with her, Kitty could see that the bandage and sling she had fashioned earlier, were covered in blood. She climbed down from the buggy to check on him. It was obviously time for a woman to take charge.

"Let's get him up in the buggy, he'll never make it like this."

Wilton Lemay looked at her,

"But what about you ma'am."

"I can ride," she said in a tone that would accept no discussion.

Surprisingly they gave her no argument. She bit her own lip as she watched them follow her instructions and help Matt down from Max's horse he had been riding then ease him up into the buggy. He looked pale as death. She could see the beads of moisture breaking out on his forehead and knew the shoulder was giving him a lot of pain and he was certainly losing a lot of blood. Eventually they had him settled and she climbed aboard briefly to place the picnic quilt around him.

Meanwhile the older Lemay was re arranging the tack on the buggy horse so he could lead him the rest of the way into Dodge and Jackson gathered up the reins from Billings' mount.

Wilton turned to Kitty and helped her to mount his brother's horse.

"You sure you'll be alright?"

She smiled, "I'm fine Wilton - you just take care of the buggy."

Once more the little group set off and managed to pick up speed a little, even so, by the time they got to Dodge they had two unconscious men on their hands which left Kitty feeling that it was up to her to take charge of the situation once more.

She directed Jackson to the jail and told him to lock Billings in one of the cells, she even told him where he would find the keys. Meantime Doc came hurrying along the boardwalk sensing that his skills were going to be needed.

"Doc I think Matt is hurt pretty bad, and this man," she indicated Max Lemay "got hit over the head with a rifle butt."

Doc set about mustering some help from a group of cowboys walking along Front Street, and it wasn't long before both injured men were moved up the stairs to his office.

He directed his conscripted help to place the Marshal face down on the examination table and had Max taken to the back room. Briefly he examined Matt's wound and asked Kitty to start boiling some water and gather up the instruments he would need to remove the bullet. Meanwhile he checked on Lemay.

It only took him a few minutes to clean and suture the wound on the young man's scalp and apply a bandage to cover it.

"We won't know much till he comes around," he told the older brother. "You just stay with him for now."

He returned to his patient in the front office.

"What happened Kitty?" he asked as he cut away most of the bloody shirt from Matt's back and removed the makeshift bandage.

"Some one fired at us from ambush."

Doc was studying the wound, his experienced fingers assessing the damaged tissues.

"He's lost a lot of blood, but the bullet is not too deep, it'll come out fairly easily. You go home and get some rest, I can deal with this."

He knew how it distressed her to watch him work on the Marshal.

"Are you sure he'll be all right, Doc?" She looked at him with blue eyes seeking an honest answer.

"He'll do just fine if he'll listen to me and take it easy for a week or so."  
They both smiled knowing that was not likely to happen.

"Go on now – you look like you've had a rough day."

Kitty didn't move, she just stood watching as Doc's steady hands set about their task. She found herself holding her breath for the few minutes that passed before she heard the sound of the forceps holding the removed bullet, landing in one of the enamel bowls that the physician had set out.

"Go on now Kitty – all I have left to do is suture this together, it won't take me long."

She took one more look at the man lying on the table. He had barely moved during the whole procedure. Carefully, so as not to distract the Physician from his task, she leaned over "I'll see you later Cowboy," she whispered in his ear. Maybe there was a slight movement of his eyelids, she smiled.

"I'll come by and let you know when I've finished Kitty – go on now and take care of yourself, he'll need you later."

She closed the door quietly and headed down the stairs. Her intention had been to go directly to the Long Branch, but at the last minute she changed her mind and made her way along to the jail. Jerry Jackson had Billings locked in one of the cells, but Kitty could tell that the trail boss was anxious to leave.

He got up as she entered. He had been sitting at Marshal's desk leaning his chair back against the wall. How often had she seen Matt do the same thing?

"How are Matt and that other man we brought in doing, Miss Kitty?" His voice sounded genuinely concerned.

"Doc says they'll both be fine in a few days. I came to thank you for taking care of the prisoner. I know Matt would appreciate your help."

"No problem – just don't tell my men I've been helping a Kansas Lawman." He smiled and Kitty noticed that his eyes were the color of springtime prairie grass and they laughed in unison with the rest of his face. He became more serious.

"I really need to leave town now and head for home, there's a lot of work to be done at Mr. Lemay's ranch and if I don't stay on top of those greenhorns I left running the place, it'll never get taken care of."

Kitty understood, she could tell by the look of this man that he did not belong in a town. She prided herself in her ability to judge a man, and she could see that this one was as independent as her cowboy and like him he was more comfortable with the vastness and solitude of the prairie, than sitting here behind a desk.

"Didn't Matt say he knew you from somewhere."

"Yeh, it seems a long time ago now. It was my third or fourth cattle drive. He was just a green drover and I was the ramrod. We rode together over the last half of the Shawnee trail to Sedalia. That was before they closed it down. I never saw him again until now – I'd heard he was a lawman, just as well, I don't think he would have made much of a drover anyway!"

Again she saw the smile in those soft colored eyes.

"Let me find someone to stay with the prisoner, then come along to the Long Branch before you head out, I owe you a drink. I think you had better check with Matt before you leave town though, I am sure he'll want you to leave a statement or something about what happened out there."

He pointed to a sheet of paper lying on the Matt's desk.

"I figured that, I've already written it out, I'll stop by the Doc's office and hand it to him before I leave."

Kitty managed to find Louie in a reasonably sober state, and told him he needed to stay at the jail and watch the prisoner till Chester got back into town. The Marshal's assistant had been gone for a few days to attend a relative's wedding in Wichita, but had planned to return on the Santa Fe tomorrow.

She smiled to herself thinking that now she was running not only the Long Branch Saloon but the Marshal's jail as well. She just hoped there were no rowdy cowboys tonight, she didn't fancy having to deal with too many of those.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**The Brother**

Chapter 8

Two hours later Doc knocked on the door to Kitty's rooms at the Long Branch.

"How is he Doc?" She was grateful to see the old man standing there with a smile on his face.

"He's doing just fine. He came to a little while ago, so maybe you'd like to take him some soup or something later."

"How about the other man?"

"I think he'll be all right, he was talking to his brother when I left. He seemed a little confused, but that is to be expected."

"Thanks Curly, I don't know what we'd do without you, come on let me buy you a whisky."

-()-()-()-

It was the next afternoon before Matt was awake enough to decide what to do with Billings and Max Lemay. He was sitting propped up in bed in Doc's back room and the physician was changing the dressing on his shoulder.

"Doc, I hope you saved the bullet you dug out of me. I was thinking that maybe you could tell me what kind of weapon fired it."

The physician didn't answer immediately; he was concentrating on what he was doing.

"This looks pretty good Matt, but it's going to be another week at least before you'll be ready to go back to work."

"The bullet, Doc, did you save it?"

He finished tying the last knot that would hold the new dressing in place, removed his spectacles and put them in their metal case. Then he reached in another pocket of his vest and handed a small piece of lead to the Marshal.

Matt tossed the slug in his hand. He was hoping to show that it was fired from the Winchester rifle that he found near Billings and not the pistol that Max Lemay laid claim to.

Carefully, so as not to put much pressure on his shoulder, he leaned back once more onto the pillows that Doc had stacked behind him.

"How is Max Lemay doing?"  
"He had a pretty bad concussion, but he's slowly getting back to normal. He and his brother are staying at the Dodge house now."

"I need to get out of here Doc. I've got a lot of work to do." Matt was getting frustrated because the physician didn't seem to be listening to him. He was busy unrolling his shirtsleeves and pulling them down to cover his arms. A few more seconds passed as he carefully fastened the last button on his shirt cuff. Finally he looked at his patient,

"If you've got any sense, which I doubt," a raised hand and pointed a finger were used to emphasize his words, "you'll stay right where you are for a few more days at least."

There was a noise in the front office and Kitty walked in, interrupting their conversation. She came on through to the back room, glancing at Doc to judge the situation.

"Hi cowboy, how are you doing?" She leaned over the bed and touched his arm.

Dillon smiled at her, he couldn't help it. Doc mumbled something under his breath and decided he had work to do in the other room.

When they were alone she leaned over the bed once more and delivered a kiss to his lips.

"I'm glad to see you sitting up and taking notice."  
"Kitty I need some clothes, I can't stay here much longer I have work to do." He looked at her – almost pleading.  
"I don't think so. Chester got back this morning so he's taking care of your prisoner and the Lemay brothers are over at the Dodge House and have no plans to leave town any time soon."

"What about Jerry Jackson? I need to get a statement from him about what happened."  
"He left yesterday evening, but he had written something out and told me he was going to bring it to you on his way out of town. Maybe he left it with Doc."

"Kitty please, you know I can't stay up here, besides which Doc needs his room back."

"We'll see," she replied trying to settle him back to rest with the touch of her hand.

-()-()-()-

Two days later Kitty finally relented and delivered his clothes. Since Doc was out on a call, Matt wasted no time in getting dressed and leaving. He looked around for Jerry Jackson's statement and finding it on the physician's desk, took it with him to read later.

Next he stopped by Mr. Teeter's tonsorial parlor for a shave and haircut, after all, the citizen's of Dodge were not used to seeing their Marshal with a three day growth of beard and hair down to his collar. By the time he got back to the office, Chester had coffee made. He sat down at his desk and carefully leaned back in his chair to read Jackson's version of events. Knowing the kind of man the trail boss was, he knew that the statement would be an accurate account of what he had witnessed with nothing added nor any details omitted. He was also pleased to see that Jackson had known enough to retrieve the Winchester rifle that Billings had been using and leave it here behind the desk. Now he had both the bullet and the rifle that, he believed, fired it.

His next stop was the Dodge House to meet with the Lemay brothers. He needed to talk to the younger Lemay and get the man's gun to add it to the rifle and bullet he had already collected as evidence.

Max was doing much better by now, but still his memory of events leading up to the shooting were a little vague. He was able to tell the Marshal how he had incurred a large gambling debt at the hands of Lou Gannon and how he was working at the man's ranch to pay it off. He had not been given much choice in that matter. He remembered Gannon telling him there was a job to do that would clear the rest of his debt. He remembered riding to Dodge with Billings and he also remembered that night in the Long Branch when the henchman pointed out Kitty and told him that she was the one Gannon wanted killed.

"I think it was something to do with cards, Marshal, something about she caught him cheating and you ordered him out of town. I just don't remember much after that.

"Do you own a rifle?" Matt asked him.  
"I do but I didn't bring it here to Dodge, all I had here was my Colt pistol."

"Do you remember Billings firing a rifle when you were down by Silver Creek?"

"Max thought hard, he put his head in his hands, "I don't know, everything is mixed up."

"Billings said you were firing at me and he took the rifle from you."

"Marshal I don't remember that. I have never shot a man in the back, and have certainly never fired at a woman. More than that I can't help you."

"It's you I'm trying to help Lemay. The bullet that was fired at me came from a rifle the same caliber as that Winchester Billings was holding when Jackson and your brother rode up, but," he added thoughtfully, eyeing the holster hanging on the bed, "it could also have been fired from this Colt pistol." He had picked up the gun and looked at it. He spun the chamber noting there were still six bullets there and it did not look like the gun had been recently cleaned or fired. "It will be up to a Judge to sort this out."

Dillon took Lemay's gun with him and made his way back to the jail. Something worried him. He vaguely remembered the incident several years ago that Max had referred to, when Lou Gannon had been caught cheating at cards. He had locked him up in the jail overnight and sent him on his way the next morning. If, as Lemay said the man wanted him and Kitty dead it meant the danger still existed. He was not so worried about himself – there were enough people out there already willing to come gunning for him, one more made no difference, but he worried about Kitty.

In the end he decided the only thing to do was to ride to Gannon's ranch and arrest the man. There wasn't much he could do about Billings, he planned to keep him in jail until the judge came through town. The last thing he wanted to happen was for Billings to get a message to Gannon that his plan had failed. Somehow he believed Max Lemay's version of the events, and when Wilton came to him saying that he wanted to take his brother home, Matt had no objection.

"Just remember I may need him back here in a few weeks for trial – that'll be up to the Judge."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**The Brother**

Chapter 9

The next few days passed slowly for Dillon. He had tried to explain to Kitty that if this man Gannon knew that his plan had failed, he might be sending another hired gun to Dodge any day. The only way he could stop that from happening was by going and confronting him there on his home ground.

Both Kitty and Doc had put forth very good arguments as to why Matt should not head out for the Gannon Ranch, but the Marshal was adamant in his decision. He knew that Judge Brooking would be coming through Dodge in about two weeks, and he figured that gave him enough time to ride the hundred miles or so and bring Gannon back to face trial along with his henchman Billings. They had begged him to at least take Chester with him, but he couldn't. Someone had to stay and take care of the prisoner.

Dragg Billings was becoming irate at being held in Dodge City's jail and threatened all kind of unpleasant consequences, but Matt was undeterred. Firstly he did not want him reporting back to Gannon and secondly he did not want him roaming free and thus having a second chance to carry out his boss's orders.

He allowed himself four days to make the approximately 130 mile trip to Gannon's ranch. He had spoken to Max Lemay who had told him that the Blazing G ranch was located about 90 miles east of Pueblo just south of Fort Lyon, he had even been able to locate it on a map. It would not be an easy ride and he took along a spare horse, just in case. His shoulder was still a little sore, but Doc had removed the stitches just before he left town and that had helped. Now he had nothing to do but count off the miles.

He had decided ahead of time where he would stop that first night to camp. He had to make it that far to keep to his schedule.

By the time he pulled off the trail behind a rocky outcrop, he was dog tired and his shoulder was aching – maybe Doc was right yet again, but he knew he didn't have much choice in what he planned to do, and he had a limited time to do it.

The remainder of the trip passed without incident, he had no clear plan in his head as to how he would find or arrest Gannon but knew that some way or another he had no choice.

As luck would have it things worked in his favor. He was approaching the part of the trail where Max Lemay had told him there was a turn off leading to the Gannon ranch. Fortunately he had just crested a ridge and saw a small cloud of dust headed towards him. Ever cautious he backed off from the trail to watch the approach of what turned out to be three riders. A good memory for names and faces was an essential part of any lawman's job and as they approached he recognized two of them. One was Willie Crocker whose face he had seen several months ago on a poster, he was wanted for holding up a stage and killing the shotgun rider. The other face was the one he had arrested in Dodge and held in the jail overnight about four years ago – Lou Gannon. He was a man who thought the world owed him a living, a man without conscience who could cheat at cards and kill anyone who tried to cross him. The man was too clever to be the one who did the killings – he always hired someone else for that. The third man of the group was unknown to Dillon.

The trio left the ranch road and turned onto the main trail heading towards Pueblo. Dillon worked his way through the rocks and managed to get ahead of the men so he could ride down from the rise and appear in front of them. He made an imposing figure – a large man on a large horse with a Sharp's rifle in his hands. As they rounded the slight bend in the road they saw him there.  
"Hold it," he called out in a loud, commanding voice.

Gannon recognized him almost at once.

"Well Marshal Dillon, you're a long way from home. What are you doing here?" He began to move ahead of the other two men who had stopped in their tracks.

"I said hold it." Dillon ignored the man and raised his rifle slightly as he spoke.

Gannon laughed. "Do you seriously think you can take all three of us?"

"Maybe not, but I'm sure I can get a bullet in you before I go down. Now all of you throw down your weapons or else Gannon here will be the first to die."

The men looked to their boss for guidance, but he was not ready to give up yet.

"What is it you want, Marshal?" Gannon was trying to play for time, to find out what had happened in Dodge. If Lemay had managed to kill that saloon girl, he knew that Dillon would find an excuse to kill him for sure.

"I'm taking you and Crocker back to Dodge, you can ride in the saddle or over it, I don't much care which. Now drop your guns, I'm not planning to sit here all day."

He looked over at the third man – he could tell he wasn't much more than a boy, probably 18 at the most.

"What's your name?"

"Mel Turner, Marshal." The young man was somewhat intimidated by the figure in front of him. Matt ran the name through his head but couldn't remember having seen it before.

"Listen Turner, you are riding with trouble here. I don't want you, just throw your gun down and turn and go – you can come back later to pick it up."

The boy looked at his boss, then back at Dillon. He made his choice and turned his horse to head west away from the fix he had got himself in.

Matt turned his attention back to the two men remaining in front of him.

"Now for the last time throw down your weapons, over there to those rocks on your right, will do."

Slowly they obeyed, thinking that with two of them they could easily overcome this man when the opportunity arose.

"Now get down off your horses and walk over there," he indicated a place to their left, well away from where the guns were lying. He turned his horse so he was facing them, then still holding the rifle he dismounted. Once on the ground he switched the rifle to his left hand and placed it in the saddle boot where it belonged, and drew his colt from its holster with his right. Keeping his eyes and his gun on the two men he reached in his saddlebag for the two pairs of handcuffs he always carried. There was enough distance between him and the men that they could not jump him. He had them both sit on the ground with their backs towards him, then watching both of them for any slight movement he had them put their hands behind their backs and locked the cuffs in place. Now he could relax a little. He gathered up the guns they had thrown down and threw them off the trail behind some rocks where they would not be found any time soon.

"Aren't you a little out of your territory Marshal?" questioned Gannon, as the Marshal returned to his prisoners.

"Nope," was the only reply he received.

Matt was not looking forward to the return trip to Dodge. He had thought he would have about twelve hours at the Fort to rest, but now he had the man he was after and would have to turn around and make the trip back without that luxury. The fact that he had picked up Crocker as well was an added bonus – although it would make his job much harder now.

Gannon and Crocker were both men who hated the thought of any kind of law interfering with their lives. Gannon was more the organizer who came up with the schemes, Crocker was just the hired help who did what he was told and looked forward to the big payoff at the end. Dillon knew that he was going to have to be alert for the entire duration of the trip back to Dodge. He could not let down his guard for a minute, these men would take any opportunity to escape and probably take pleasure in killing him while doing so.

The Marshal wanted to get them mounted up and on their way before any more of Gannon's men arrived on the scene. Accordingly, one at a time he released the handcuffs just long enough for them to get up on their horses, then refastened them behind their backs. It would make for an uncomfortable ride so he didn't usually do that to his prisoners, but there were two of them and he knew they would take advantage of any little weakness he showed.

The first two days went fairly smoothly. The men complained a lot about all the riding they had to do, but Matt paid no attention. It was the nights that were the worst. He didn't dare sleep very much, and by the third night he was having a hard time staying awake. He worried about making one little mistake that would give them the chance to overpower him. By the fourth morning he felt his concentration waning, even so he followed the same procedure he had used up to now. He had Gannon mounted up and had re fastened the cuffs so the man's hands were behind his back. As usual the man sat there and complained all the time he was getting Crocker over to his horse. At the last minute, just as Matt had released the man's hands and Crocker was about to mount up, Gannon maneuvered his horse close enough to launch a hefty kick at Matt's head, but got his shoulder instead. Crocker seized his chance and managed to grab the Marshal's gun. Matt launched himself at the man, but Gannon began to get off his horse to help. Somehow in the confusion Crocker was determined to leave the scene, he grabbed his horse and started to ride away, firing the gun at the Marshal in the hope of making good his escape. Somehow Matt managed to grab his own rifle from the saddle on the buckskin and fired after him. His aim was good and he watched as the man fell to the ground.

He turned to Gannon who had meantime managed to get off of his horse and grabbing the man's arm looked around for something to secure him to while he went to check on Crocker. There was a fairly large tree to the right of the trail – that would work. He pushed his complaining prisoner in that direction and refastened the handcuffs so that the man was secured to a substantial limb.

He walked off to check on Crocker, affording himself the luxury of rubbing his shoulder. At least it wasn't bleeding again. Crocker was lying face down where he had landed. Matt retrieved his gun and held it ready while he turned the man over with his foot, he could see that he was dead. Crocker's horse was standing nearby, he should probably throw the man's body over the saddle and bring it back to Dodge, but that would only make the remainder of the trip more difficult, in the end he removed the saddle and bridle from the animal and turned it loose. It took him a few minutes to walk back to where he had left Gannon and the other horses, he replaced the rifle in its scabbard and with pistol in one hand, removed the cuffs from Gannon.

Indicating the body on the ground he turned to Gannon

"Take him over there towards those bushes and find some rocks to cover him"

Gannon started to complain, "You just flat out killed him Dillon, now you gonna leave him here?"

The Marshal ignored him, just kept urging him on with the Colt he was holding. Gannon made several other remarks, but they all fell on deaf ears.

The delay had cost them about two hours so it was already getting dark by the time they rode into Dodge. Matt wanted to get his prisoner locked in a cell and then get a telegraph off to the sheriff in Kansas City where. If he remembered correctly, Crocker was wanted for bank robbery. He needed to let him know that the man was dead.

He was just tying the horses to the rail outside the office when the door opened and his assistant appeared.

"Mr. Dillon, it's good to see you made it back."

"It's good to be back, Chester. Take this man for me and lock him up."

"Marshal in case you'd forgotten I've still got these cuffs on."

Matt had grown tired of the man's manner.

"You managed to get of your horse back there on the prairie, so I figure you can do it again here." He watched the man's ungraceful descent to the ground and took his rifle from the saddle boot and handed it to Chester.

"I've got some good hot coffee on Mr. Dillon. As soon as I've got him locked up I'll bring you a cup."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**The Brother**

Chapter 10

Dillon had been considering how to handle the case against Billings and more importantly Lou Gannon. Technically a murder or attempted murder of a US Marshal would be heard in a federal courtroom, but there was some leeway between the state and federal circuit courts in this case, after all Kitty had been a target too. Using the federal court would mean he would have to escort two prisoners not to mention several witnesses to Topeka or Wichita, and then he would be gone from Dodge for at least two weeks. In the end he decided that the evidence against Gannon was not sufficient to lead to a death penalty, he would stick with the regular circuit court if Judge Brooking was amenable to that. After sending and receiving several telegrams, the Judge agreed to hear the case and set a date that he would be in Dodge.

Matt had taken a good deal of time to organize what evidence he had against Lou Gannon although now he looked over it he had to admit it wasn't very much. He had sent a wire to Max Lemay telling him the date of the trial and that he needed to be back in Dodge a day or so before hand, but that may not be enough. He needed Billings to talk.

Both his prisoners were locked back there in the cells, and he knew that Gannon had spent a lot of time talking to Billings, but there was not a lot he could do to stop that. Finally the day before Judge Brooking was due to arrive in town, he took a room at the Dodge House and shortly after lunch escorted Billings across the street to the new accommodation.

Billings was pleased to be away from the jail and from the man who had been his boss for more than two years.

He looked around with questioning eyes, but said nothing as the Marshal fastened one loop of the handcuffs to the bed head, leaving the other on Billings left wrist, then he deliberately locked the door locked and turned back to place a steady gaze on his prisoner.

Dragg Billings was a big man, incredibly strong and had never felt intimidated by anyone – except perhaps Gannon, but the man that stood across from him now, had that effect also. The steely blue eyes were looking straight through him. Maybe he had only been moved from a bad situation to one that could be worse.

"What do you want Marshal?" Matt could see the man's nervousness in the way he sat stiffly on the edge of the bed. He couldn't move much because of the handcuff, but he seemed to be holding his body in as small a space as possible. Good, he thought, he needed to scare him a little.

"I brought you over here, Billings, because I wanted to talk to you. I need to ask you a couple of questions."

"You planning to beat me up?" Matt had never seen such a tough acting man become so timid. He decided to play along a little.

"Let's just plan on talking and see how far we get." He let the silence hang in the air for a minute or so.

"Suppose you tell me why you tried to ambush me."  
The man was half afraid, "I told you that wasn't me, it was Lemay." The words were said in a soft mumbled voice.

Matt got to his feet and walked around the room, he was giving himself time to think and for Billings to understand the situation he was in. He wanted the truth if he had to scare it out of the man. Not so much for himself as for Kitty. If Gannon did not get convicted of plotting a murder, if he went home a free man, he would send other gunslingers to follow and maybe they would better with a rifle than Billings had been.

The Marshal took off his gun belt and his badge and making sure that the outlaw could see what he was doing, laid them on a small table near the door. The man looked at him, fear in his eyes, but was that fear great enough to overcome Gannon's threats?

Matt came back and stood in front of the man.

"Now suppose we try again, you tried to kill me and I want to know why."

Billings looked up at him, especially at the place on the faded shirt where the badge had been. Dillon was angry and he could almost feel the fire in hard blue eyes that bored into him. He took a shaky breath,

"If I talk, Gannon will send some of his men to kill me."

"Not if he hangs, he won't."

Dillon reached forward and grabbed the man's shirt pulling him up off the bed.

"One more chance. I take it personally when someone shoots at me from ambush. Now tell me what happened."

Those eyes were even closer and the way the Marshal was working his fists did not look good to Billings. He was scared enough of Gannon, but it was this man that was in front of him now.

"I know you are the one that fired that rifle, several people saw you ride out of town with it on your rig. I have the bullet, and it came from a rifle, not the pistol that Lemay carried." Most of this was bluff but Billings didn't know that.

"Okay, don't hit me, I'll tell you. Gannon had a grudge against you and that saloon woman. He wanted you both killed. He sent that kid Lemay with me for some reason – I could have done it better by myself. He was going to pay me $500.00."

"So Lemay didn't fire that rifle?"

"No," the dejected man admitted, "he said he couldn't shoot a woman. I didn't want to either, but Mr. Gannon wanted you both gone."

"Are you willing to get up in court and tell the Judge that?"  
"I can't."

"Listen to me Billings, you are in big trouble, you tried to murder a US Marshal and you could hang for that alone. If you tell the Judge what happened I'll speak up for you. I am sure you'll serve some prison time, but at least I can keep you from being hanged." Dillon let go of the man's shirt and pushed him back down to the bed

Billings thought some more.

"You'll keep me here so I don't have to go back to jail and face Gannon?"  
Matt slowly nodded his head. "You can stay here till the trial."

"Can I think about it?"

"I need your answer now Billings."

"All right I'll do it, but you'll have to protect me."

"I'll see to that." The Marshal turned and picked up his badge and his gun. "I'll have Chester come check on you in a while," he added, pinning his badge back in place and holstering his gun.

He had nothing else to say and the prisoner was sitting on the bed as he left the room and locked the door behind him.

-()-()-()-

The trial was set for two days from now. Lemay was supposed to be arriving on the afternoon stage, and the Judge was supposed to arrive the following morning. Matt had several small civil cases for him to preside over, mostly for his opinion on property rights, water rights and such, just squabbles between farmers and land owners but mostly he wanted time to discuss the case against Gannon. He was anxious to get things underway because he had the feeling that if any of Gannon's men had found out what had happened to their boss, they might be headed his way to break their boss out of jail.

He crossed the street to his office,

"Go check on Billings later and take him some lunch," he said as he handed his assistant the room key, "just don't tell him where Billings is. I don't want to give him the opportunity to send someone after him."

Chester had had his fill of Lou Gannon, the man was constantly yelling demands and threats and generally making a nuisance of himself, especially since Dillon had taken his henchman away from the jail.

"Is he gonna co-operate Mr. Dillon?"  
"Well he said he would – we'll just have to wait and see. Meantime just make sure they are kept apart."

-()-()-()-

It was noontime and the usual crowd of Dodge's businessmen were propping up the bar in the Long Branch. The small table at the back of the saloon was hosting its familiar occupants.

Kitty and Matt had been sharing a plate of sandwiches and two half empty beer mugs were still in view. Their quiet conversation was centered on the upcoming trial. Matt was concerned that Kitty's name would be inevitably drawn into the proceedings. He felt guilty about it and thought it would expose her to even more danger. Doctor Adams had made his way across the room to sit in one of the empty chairs at the same table and interrupted the Marshal's self recrimination.

"You look like you've been working, Doc," Matt said teasingly. Doc just gave him a look and muttered something under his breath. Kitty took pity on the older man and called Freddie to bring him a whisky.

"Here you go Curly," she passed the glass across to him, then noticed him staring at the empty sandwich plate.

"Don't worry, I'll go fix you some more." She touched the physician on the shoulder then left the two men to make her way back to the bar.

Matt turned to the Doctor.

"You know that trial will be starting in a day or so. I hope you are going to be in town, I may need your testimony. Mostly I need you to be able to say that the bullet was fired from a rifle. I can pretty much prove the rifle belonged to Billings and that all Lemay had was a pistol."

Doc was chewing on an old toothpick he found in his pocket, he removed it from his mouth and looked carefully at his friend the Marshal.

"I am pretty certain that it was fired from a rifle. At the distance you described, a pistol shot would not have had enough force to make such a long track in your shoulder."

Matt looked at him quizzically.

"Its like this," the physician continued, "It hit you at an angle and travelled about four or five inches through skin and muscle. The reason it didn't do more damage was because of the angle, it skimmed along just beneath the skin. If it had hit you straight on it would have been a different story. I just don't think a bullet fired from a pistol at that distance would have had enough force to do that."

"Do you think you can explain that to the court, Doc."

He chewed on his toothpick for a second or two. "Don't see why not."

About this time Kitty returned with more sandwiches and the conversation ended.

Two days later the trial got underway. Somehow Gannon had brought a well known defense attorney into town, and Matt was a little nervous about what the man might have up his sleeve. He did not want to have to put Kitty on the stand to testify about the card game that took place several years ago, he did not want to make her any more vulnerable to anyone else with a grudge, but he did talk with her about the possibility and of course she was only too willing to help put Gannon away.

Wilton and Max Lemay had also arrived in town and the Marshal sat down with both of them to explain what he thought was going to happen and to tell Max just to recount his story telling the truth about what had happened about his encounter with Gannon in Pueblo, and how he had finished up working at the Blazing G ranch, the trip to Dodge and how Billings had pointed out who the targets were to be. He warned him to be especially careful about re-counting what happened on the day of the shooting. Max was a little reluctant about the upcoming events, but Wilton encouraged him on because he was outraged that someone like Gannon should virtually imprison his younger brother. Wilton himself was not a fan of the law because sometimes he thought it interfered with his business plans. On the other hand he did not approve of killing and steeling and above all he kept most all of his own transactions on the right side of the legal line.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**The Brother**

Chapter 11

As was usual in Dodge City, the trial would be held in the lobby of the Dodge House. Several of the local townspeople were hired to help set up the temporary courtroom.

Matt had handed the three pieces of evidence and Jerry Jackson's statement over to the court and they were placed on the Judges table so that Gannon's attorney and the Jury could examine them as necessary.

The Judge asked Matt to open the proceedings by explaining the charges against Gannon.

The Marshal stood up and addressed the court in his clear precise way, while Doc and Kitty sat at the back of the room hoping that everything would go as he had planned. He explained how Billings and Max Lemay had ambushed him – but that it had been at the behest of Lou Gannon.

When he had finished Gannon's attorney, Theodore Tunney, had his say. He was a middle-aged man with a balding head. Wire rimmed spectacles sat permanently on his small beak like nose and the rest of his face showed the pallor that comes with a profession requiring hours of pouring over books in an office of some sort. He looked disparagingly around the make shift courtroom in the Dodge House, then consciously changed his whole attitude. He could tell that the Marshal was a respected man with most of the city's residents and he would have to treat him accordingly so as not to incur their hostility.

In his opening remarks he explained to the Jury that anyone could be mistaken and that his client – Mr. Lou Gannon was a reputable cattleman in his own community and knew nothing of the exploits of Billings and Lemay. He suggested that the Marshal had been told a series of lies and these had led him to venture, very unwisely let it be said, all the way to the Blazing G ranch, to arrest his client with very little in the way of evidence.

The preliminaries out of the way the Judge asked Matt if there were any witnesses.

Max Lemay took a seat in that fearful chair next to the Judges table. Having sworn to tell the truth, he recounted his story of the card game in Pueblo where he ran up a huge debt to Lou Gannon and that was how he came to be working at the Blazing G. He told how one evening Mr. Gannon came to him and offered him a job, to go with Billings to take care of some business. If all went well it would wipe out the debt.

"Did he tell you what that business was?" Tunney had asked him.

Max thought a minute. "No Sir, he said Billings would tell me about it when we got to Dodge."

"Interesting," said Tunney, removing his spectacles and cleaning them on a handkerchief he took from his pocket. Matt knew this was for effect; the attorney wanted the jury to remember this point.

"Carry on with your story." Tunney had replaced the spectacles on his nose and looked hard at the witness.  
"When we got to Dodge, Billings pointed out Miss Russell and told me it was my job to kill her, that Gannon wanted her out of the way."

"Go on," said Judge Brooking as the young man paused for a few minutes, "please tell us what happened after that."

"Later that evening Dragg – er Mr. Billings, saw the marshal walking along Front Street and told me that he was going to kill the Marshal. He said Mr. Gannon wanted them both taken out because of some problem with a card game several years ago and the Marshal had thrown Mr. Gannon out of Dodge and told him not to come back. Now Mr. Gannon wanted to come back to Dodge to do business here, so that was why we were to kill both the Marshall and Miss Russell."

Tunney sat patiently at the small table where he and Gannon were seated. He seemed to be re arranging papers and not paying much attention to what was going on.

Max Lemay looked around the courtroom, glancing at the Marshal for encouragement.

Finally he continued, "I knew I couldn't do it. I've never killed a woman. The next morning we followed the Marshall and Miss Russell out of town, Billings set up the ambush. When it came time to shoot, I couldn't do it." Another pause as he tried to remember the scene. The images were still tangled together in his brain.

"I closed my eyes trying not to see what was happening, then I heard two shots, real close together. I really can't remember too much after that until I woke up in Doc's office with a headache."

That seemed to be the end of the story until Tunney stood up.

"Your Honor, may I ask a few questions?" The Judge signaled him to go ahead.

"You say you were working for Mr. Gannon to pay off a gambling debt. Had gambling been your way of earning a living?"

"For a while, yes."

"Was this trip to Dodge all a gamble you took to try to leave Mr. Gannon's employ before the debt was paid off?"

"No Sir," at least Lemay was standing his ground, "It was Mr. Gannon's idea that I leave with Billings."  
"Did anyone else hear that conversation, Mr. Lemay?"  
"I don't think so," Max said quietly.

"So it is just your word against his. I have no more questions."

With that the owner of the balding head and wire rimmed spectacles sat back down at his clients side.

Matt thought he could see where this high paid attorney was going and he didn't like it. The Judge indicated that Matt could ask questions if he needed to. He only had one point to make.

"Mr. Lemay, do you see your gun on the table there."

"Yes Marshal." He pointed to the Colt.

"Is that Winchester yours?"

"No, it belongs to Mr. Billings."

"Were you carrying the Colt that day."

"Yes, I'm sure I was."

-()-()-()-

It was time to continue and Matt had brought Billings down to the temporary courtroom. The prisoner in turn took the chair next to the Judge's table and went through the sequence of swearing to tell the truth and stating his name. Matt could see him looking at his ex boss, and hoped he would not be too intimidated by the sight of Gannon sitting there.

After some prompting by the Judge, Billings began his story. How Mr. Gannon had sent him to Dodge to rid the town of the Marshal and the saloon owner so that once again the Blazing G could return to Dodge for the cattle business. How on the day in question he had ridden out with Lemay to follow the Marshal and Miss Russell. At this point he looked at the Judge, unwilling to continue.

"I don't quite remember the rest," he mumbled.

"May I ask some questions?" Again it was the little attorney who was on his feet.

"Are you sure Mr. Billings, that it was Mr. Gannon, who is after all a man with an honest cattle business, who asked you to eliminate these two people. Maybe you are confused here. Could it possibly have been Mr. Lemay, after all he is a gambler by profession and Miss Russell runs the Long Branch and from what I hear she does not allow any underhand dealing there."  
The Judge pounded his gavel.

"That is enough Mr. Tunney, you are putting words in this man's mouth. He must tell his own story."

Sadly poor Billings now saw a way out of his predicament. He was not against telling the odd lie or two especially if he thought it was in his best interest to do so.

Dillon sat there looking hard at Billings, the man turned his eyes away.  
"Yes I remember now, it was Lemay, he wanted to escape from the ranch, because he knew it would take him a long time to work off his debt. He likes to gamble; he kept asking me to lend him money so he could go play cards. He wanted Dodge to open up for his crooked dealing so he needed that woman and the Marshal gone. We were supposed to scout out the cattle market for Mr. Gannon, but Lemay wanted to play cards."

"So what happened that morning, Mr. Billings?"

The man was thinking fast. If he could blame it all on Lemay, both he and Gannon would walk free. That would be the best answer to his predicament.

"The Marshal and Miss Russell were headed out of town. We followed the buggy. When we got to the river Mr. Lemay had us hide out in the bushes, he fired at the Marshal, then I tried to take his gun away from him before he could fire again, but he was trying to get my rifle to get a better shot. I was still trying to get it away from him when two other men showed up. I had to hit Lemay over the head to stop him firing again. That's what happened."

The Judge looked at Billings with a steady gaze.

"I am going to remind you that you are under oath and that perjury is a serious crime. Do you understand?"

Billings nodded. He was so confused now that he was finding it hard to recall what had been the real story, he'd always had trouble telling truth from lies anyway. Either the Law or Lou Gannon were going to get him, how did he finish up in this mess? Gannon had promised that if he took the blame, he would see that he did not go to prison and he, Gannon, would give him a large sum of money. Sadly he believed it.

Dillon could see his case against Gannon being eroded away. He could not let that happen. He had to admit he did not think to check Lemay's gun at the time of the ambush to see if it had been fired, a bad mistake on his part. It was sitting there with the other two pieces of evidence on the Judges table. He knew only too well that the Winchester rifle that Billings carried used ammunition that could also be fired by many of the pistols around – including the one Lemay was wearing that day. That was part of the appeal of the weapon – you didn't have to carry two kinds of shells.

The Judge looked at Dillon. "Is there anything else you'd like to ask Mr. Billings?"

Matt thought a minute. The man was already lying under oath. He had nothing to loose now so there was no point in asking anything and hoping to get an honest answer. He did want one thing made clear.

"Is that your Winchester, Mr. Billings."  
The unfortunate man looked at the weapon on the table, trying to decide the best way to answer.

"Yes I suppose it is."

"Any thing else Marshal?" Brooking asked.

"No thank you Judge." Matt's voice was quiet, he was thinking.

The judge decided to adjourn for lunch so Matt escorted both his prisoners back to the jail, no sense in keeping them apart now. Billings had made his choice and hung his head as the handcuffs were placed on his wrists.

"You know you can go to jail for perjury?" Dillon asked him quietly as he snapped the cuffs closed. Billings said nothing – he figured that the story he had told was his only way out now.

As the prisoners were locked back in the cells, Matt sent Chester off to get them lunch and he headed out for the Long Branch. He needed to talk with Kitty and Doc.

Luckily they were both there – together with most of Dodge's population. The only people missing, it seemed, where the twelve men that were serving as jury. Judge Brooking had insisted they remain at the Dodge House.

They were standing at the bar as Dillon approached. Doc turned to him

"Not quite going as you wanted is it Matt?"  
"Nope. I need to find a way around Billing's testimony. I hate to do this to you Kitty, but do you remember the time when Gannon was in town here?"

"I certainly do Matt. He was a good cheat, but his tricks were old and I'd seen them all before."  
"I hate to do it, but I might have to get you to testify to that. I am just worried about Tunney and what questions he might ask you."  
"I've handled Texas trail hands Matt – he doesn't scare me."

"He might try to discredit you somehow, to make out that you could be lying to protect me."

"I'll risk it Matt. The man is a little weasel."

"No Kitty he is doing the job he is supposed to do, but at the same time he is going to get Gannon off and I can't let that happen."

"Don't worry Matt, whatever he asks, I can handle it."

He touches her lightly on the arm. "Thanks Kitty."

"Doc, you told me that you could say with some degree of certainty that the bullet you dug out of me was fired by a rifle."

"I did, do you have it with you."

"No I turned everything over to the Judge."

"I need to go to my office and check something out Matt. Give me half an hour."

Doc swallowed the remainder of his whisky and left the saloon. He remembered reading something recently about bullets fired from a rifle; he needed to read it again.

Kitty looked back at her Marshal.

"You're worried aren't you Cowboy."

He nodded slowly. "If Gannon walks free, he's going to hire a better gunman next time. Its not going to be safe for either of us until I get him locked away."

Kitty knew he was not so much worried about his own safety as hers. He accepted the risk to himself that came with the badge, he had told her that many times, but he worried about her, in fact she knew he worried about all of Dodge City, but her especially.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

The Brother

Chapter 12

The afternoon session was about to begin. Matt took Gannon from his cell and walked him across to the courtroom at the Dodge House. He left Billings staring at the brick wall. The man was either too ashamed or too scared to look at him, he wasn't sure which, not that it mattered, the damage was done.

Judge Brooking banged his gavel to bring the room to order.

"Do you have any other witnesses Marshal?"

Matt hated what he was about to do, to subject Kitty to questioning by Tunney, but he had little choice.

"Yes, your honor. I have Miss Kitty Russell and Doctor Adams."  
Kitty was brought to the chair by the Judge's table and duly sworn in. Matt loved how she held herself proud and erect, he knew she would go to battle with the defense attorney in any way necessary, but that fact didn't make him feel any better.

Since there was no prosecuting attorney in this small town on the edge of the prairie, it was up to him to ask the right questions. He had done it many times before, but this was different, there was a lot at stake.

"Miss Russell, how long have you been part owner of the Long Branch?"  
"About 5 years now Marshal."

"Have you ever seen Mr. Gannon before."  
Kitty looked over at the man.

"Yes he was here about four years ago."  
Judge Brooking decided to ease the tension on Dillon. He looked over at Kitty from his seat behind the big table.

"Please tell us what happened on that occasion," he said

"He was in a poker game at the Long Branch. He'd been playing there most of the afternoon and evening. It seemed like he was winning a lot of money from different cowboys that passed through. One of them came over to me and said the man was cheating so I went and watched the play." She stopped a minute to gather her thoughts. "I have dealt many poker games, your honor," she looked briefly at the Judge who was only too well aware of her business dealings, "this man was dealing off the bottom of the deck, pocketing aces and using several other well used means of gaining an advantage. Many of the cowboys around the table had lost a good deal of money to him and I knew that if I called him out there would be a lot of gunplay and probably someone would get hurt. I knew that the Marshal would be making rounds soon and thought if I could keep Mr. Gannon busy for a while he would show up and I could tell him what had been going on. So I sat in on the game and pulled a few tricks of my own to try and win back the money he had taken from those cowboys. I was doing a pretty good job of it too when Marshal Dillon came in and I told him what had happened. I think the cowboys were ready to kill Mr. Gannon – but the Marshal took him off to jail, so a gun fight was avoided and no one got hurt or killed."

Brooking nodded appreciatively at her testimony, and gave permission to Tunney to ask questions.

"So you run a saloon Miss Russell?"  
"I run it and I own it," she replied.

"I ..er.. assume that you and Marshal Dillon here are good friends, shall we say – after all on the day in question you were seen riding out with him."

"That would be correct Mr. Tunney, we are friends." She gave nothing away but knew what was coming.

"Maybe the Marshal pays extra attention to the Long Branch Saloon," he said a little suggestively.

"The Marshal pays attention to all the saloons in town as well as all the other businesses." Her skills at Poker helped her to keep her face from showing any feelings.

"Have you ever cheated at cards, Miss Russell?"

"There have been occasions when it was called for." She could see no use in denying the obvious, after all she had admitted it just a few minutes ago.  
"Are you good enough friends with Marshal Mathew Dillon that maybe he turns a blind eye to underhand dealing at the Long Branch?"

Kitty wanted to throw daggers at him, but kept her composure.

"Mr. Tunney, Marshal Dillon does not allow any crooked gambling in any of the saloons in town. Everybody knows that."

"But I thought seeing as you and the Marshal have a special," he underlined the next word, "er.. friendship, that maybe things were different at the Long Branch."  
"Whatever kind of friends Matt Dillon has, he treats them all the same when it comes to the law."

She thought she had avoided his insinuation, but he tried again.

" I was just wondering how well you knew the Marshal, Miss Russell, after all you do run a saloon and employ several saloon girls, and I believe when you first came to Dodge you worked as one of those saloon girls.

"I did." She did not bat an eyelid, but at the same time she dared not look at Matt who was almost sitting on his hands to keep them from lashing out at the bespectacled attorney. "There are not many jobs available to young women who head out to this part of the country and if you don't want to sew or wait tables, a saloon is one of the few choices."

"I can't help but wonder if the fact that you are on such good terms with the Marshal didn't help you in procuring the business at the Long Branch, after all that is a lot of money for a saloon girl to accumulate. If she could, say, have an advantage at the card table that would help."

"Sir I came by the money by hard work and honesty."

The Judge got involved at this point.

"I am not sure what you are trying to prove, Mr. Tunney, but maybe you should say it out and then move on. I think we have discussed enough of Miss Russell's business."  
"Your Honor, I was just trying to show that maybe she is not a reliable witness and that she was 'mistaken' about Mr. Gannon cheating at cards."

"Thank you Mr. Tunney for explaining that to us. I'll allow you one more question."

The balding attorney thought better of it.

"Thank you Judge, I have finished."

Matt watched as Kitty left the stand, he tried not to look directly at her and have his eyes give away his true feelings. Time for that later.  
"Let's move on then. Marshal do you wish to call Dr. Adams."

"Yes please your honor."

Doc walked up to take the chair by the Judge. He had faced many attorneys before and this little squirt did not impress him overly. He went through all the usual routine stating his name, his occupation and how long he had practiced medicine. Everyone in Dodge knew Doc and they were looking forward to watching him deal with the little upstart that had appeared in their town to defend Lou Gannon.

"Go ahead Marshal," indicated the Judge, "ask your questions."

"Doctor Adams, you have had a lot of experience with bullet wounds over the years, could you tell us about it."

" I was a field surgeon during the war, I saw all kinds of bullet wounds from pistols, muskets and all kinds of rifles and shotguns. And I've removed my share of bullets since I came to Dodge."

"Do you see the bullet that you removed from my shoulder a couple of weeks ago?"

"Yes," Doc reached over to retrieve the small piece of metal from the table in front of the Judge, and then produced a magnifying glass from his pocket. Quickly he turned the bullet in his fingers and looked at it with the glass. He was happy at what he saw.

"Can you tell us anything about the gun that fired it."

Doc passed his hand over his mustache then took his spectacles from their case and put them on.

"First of all a bullet of this caliber could have been fired from a Winchester 1873 like the one you have there. That model is chambered for a .44 cartridge, which will also fit that Colt Army revolver. However there are two things to suggest this was fired by the rifle." He picked up the magnifying glass and handed it and the bullet to the Judge. "See here your honor, you can see a shallow groove cut along the bullet." The Judge looked and agreed. "That is correct," he said to the court.

"May I see?" Tunney was on his feet.

"Of course Mr. Tunney come up here and take a look. We can pass it around for any of the jurors that might like to see it for themselves."

"That groove is made by the effect of the rifling in the barrel of the Winchester." Doc paused giving them time to absorb what he had just said, then he continued pushing home his point. "You don't see it on a bullet fired from a revolver." He paused for effect and to let the information sink in.

"The second fact that suggests it was fired by a rifle is the length of the track the bullet left in the Marshal's shoulder. It was about five inches long and this bullet fired from pistol at that same distance would have not penetrated that far."

The Judge looked around the courtroom. "Do you have any questions Mr. Tunney?"

"Yes your Honor, just one or two."

"Doctor, I am not doubting your honesty here, but I am responsible for seeing that only fair evidence is offered against my client. How can we be sure that this .. this piece of metal," he was tossing the bullet in his hand, "is the bullet that you say you removed from the Marshal."

Adams said nothing, just glowered at the man for a minute.

"Sir, I am a doctor, I am proud of my shingle hanging out there on Front Street. I worked hard to earn that degree and I would not jeopardize it by standing up and committing perjury."

"I wasn't suggesting that Doctor – I don't doubt your integrity, but you previously told us that you remove a number of bullets in the course of your profession. I was just concerned that maybe, somehow there could have been a mix up. I am sure it could easily happen."  
Doc glowered at him.

"Mr. Tunney, shortly after I removed that bullet I gave it to the Marshal and it has been in his possession up until a few hours ago, when I believe he turned all those pieces of evidence over to the court. To the best of my knowledge – and of course you can check with him – it was kept locked in the safe in his office with those two weapons as evidence for this trial."

The man nodded his head and paced the floor for a few seconds.

"Finally Doctor, we only have your word about the length of the bullet track. Maybe there is someway we could verify that."  
The Judge stepped in.

"I don't think that will be necessary here in the courtroom Mr. Tunney. If you insist maybe we could arrange something in my chambers. I know Dr. Adams personally and would not question his integrity."

There was a few minutes pause in the proceedings. Then the Judge spoke to Dillon.

"Do you have any other witnesses Marshal?"

"No Sir."

Brooking turned to the defense attorney. "Does your client intend to take the stand?"

"We still need to discuss that, your honor. May I request a recess?"

The judge looked at his watch.

"I think we will adjourn until tomorrow morning."  
He banged the gavel, the occupants of the courtroom rose and it is all over for the day.

Matt was about to put the handcuffs back on Gannon and take him across to the jail.

"If you don't mind, Marshal, I would like to have time to talk privately with my client."

"You can come over to the jail later this evening." Dillon was losing patience with Tunney, although deep inside as he had told Kitty earlier, he knew that the man was only doing his job. He wondered how much Gannon was paying him.

" I would hardly consider that private, maybe some alternative arrangement can be made?"

Dillon made no promises, instead he snapped the handcuffs closed and pointed Gannon in the direction of the door.

Later, Matt went to talk with the Lemay brothers. He knew that Max had done the best he could while giving his testimony. It was like the young man said, there were things he just could not remember. Wilton wanted to return home, but Matt explained that although there were no charges files against the younger man, they needed to stay around till the end of the trial.

"What happens if Gannon goes free Marshal?" Wilton was going over things in his mind. He did not want the man harassing his brother about a dubious gambling debt.

" I'm doing everything I can to see that that doesn't happen, but if it does there isn't much I can. Right now it is up to the decision of the jury."

When he left the Lemay brothers he did not feel much like eating supper and returned to the jail where he found Tunney waiting for him.

The man was demanding privacy to talk with his client. Dillon searched the man for any weapon and then locked him in the cell with Gannon. Unlocking the other cell he hauled Dragg Billings into the front office and handcuffed him to the cot, then he closed the door to the cells.

"Just call me when you are ready to leave," he told the little attorney.

-()-()-()-

Later that evening Kitty was pouring her best Brandy into two elegant glass snifters.

"Here Matt," she handed one of the glasses to him. "Let's drink to a good outcome."

Matt sat swirling the amber liquid in his glass and watching the small whirlpool that formed in the center.

"Matt," she said. He wasn't hearing her. She went over and touched his arm.

"I'm sorry Kitty, I just keep thinking about Gannon. There are too many weak points in our case against him. I don't know what else I can do."

There was silence for a few minutes. She sat on the settee next to him and took his hand in hers.

"You've done everything you can."

"I thought for sure that Billings was going to testify against Gannon, I didn't think he would back down like that. It really left me without much of a case."

He stopped looking at the drink and squeezed her hand that was holding his.

"I really hated putting you through that today."

"Don't worry Cowboy, us salon gals are pretty tough. Now drink that down and maybe you'll sleep better tonight."

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**The Brother **

Chapter 13

The atmosphere in the courtroom next morning was one of tense excitement. As many of Dodge's citizens who could fit in the lobby of the Dodge House had already grabbed their places. Differing accounts of the proceedings had already been recounted in all the saloons and businesses of the town and people were anxious to see the conclusion of the Marshal's case against Lou Gannon.

Judge Brooking looked around at the motley crowd in front of him and slowly raised his gavel. "This court is now in session," he proclaimed as he struck the instrument on the table were he sat.

" I am going to issue a warning," he said trying to eye as many of the people gathered in front of him as he could. "There are a lot of you crowded in here today and I want you to remember that I want order at all times. Any rowdiness or other behavior unbecoming to a court of law and I will clear this room." He looked around at Jeff Tencher who was acting as the bailiff. "You can bring the jury in now."

Everyone was seated and as quiet descended on the room, the Judge turned to Mr. Tunney.

"Does your client wish to testify?"

"If it pleases your honor, Mr. Gannon feels that enough time has been wasted already with these frivolous charges, none of which have been proven, so he declines to make further comment."

The little man sat down and Dillon knew in his heart that any hope he had of questioning the man to catch him in a lie, had just left the room.

The judge sent the jury to deliberate, but it did not take them long to reach a verdict.

They obviously did not believe Billings' story about Lemay. They had read Jackson's statement and inspected his gun, and found no evidence that Lemay had ever fired a shot. They found Dragg Billings guilty of attempted murder, but could not find sufficient evidence to convict Gannon of any crime.

Accordingly the Judge had Billings stand and told him he could well sentence him to be hanged, but instead the man was to serve 25 years in state prison.

When Gannon stood before the judge there was a smirk on his face that Dillon wanted to remove with a fast backhand, instead the Judge pronounced him free to leave the court and go on his way. The jury could not find enough evidence to convict him of anything.

As the Judge dismissed the court there was a general murmuring of conversations as people made there way out onto the street.

Dillon placed the handcuffs back on Billings as he prepared to return him to the jail.

Gannon and his attorney were busy congratulating each other, as the Marshal passed by with his prisoner, but Gannon stopped and looked at him.

"You are not as smart as you think Marshal. You haven't heard the last of me and.." he stopped to look around the courtroom till his eyes located the red headed saloon owner, "you better watch out after your lady friend, I would hate to hear of anything happening to her."

Again Matt felt the almost irresistible urge to hit the man, but instead he ushered his prisoner out of the building towards the jail.

"Billings," he said, "if you had done the right thing in there, you would not be looking at a long prison sentence."

"Don't worry about me, Marshal, Mr. Gannon promised that he would make sure nothing bad happened to me. He's going to get me out and pay me a lot of money, you'll see."

Dillon almost felt sorry for Dragg Billings, he knew that whatever was in the man's future it was not going to be freedom and money.

Matt had watched the afternoon train pullout heading east. Tunney had been on it and just before the train left the station he had watched as Gannon had handed an envelope containing a bank draft for a large amount of money to the attorney. He watched as they shook hands, then Gannon walked away and made his way to the stage depot and then the telegraph office. He couldn't help but feel he had stirred up a hornet's nest and just hoped that he could prevent those around him from getting stung.

He went back to his office to find Judge Brooking sitting there talking to Chester.

The Judge stood up as the Marshal entered.

"Matt I wanted to talk with you before I left town."

Matt looked around to make sure that the door to the cells was closed, then taking some money from his pocket, he handed it to Chester telling him to go get some lunch for the prisoner.

The door closed behind the jailer and the Marshal and the Judge sat at the small table in the middle of the office.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out better for you Matt. There really wasn't much I could do."

"I know, I appreciate you trying though. I really thought I had Billings convinced to tell the truth until that man Tunney came along."

"I am worried that man, Gannon, may seek some kind of reprisal against you and Miss Russell and I came here to urge you to be careful."  
"Thank you Judge, but there is not much I can do, there are enough men after me now that one more makes little difference, I do worry about Kitty though."  
"Why don't you get her to leave town for a while?"  
Matt smiled, "With all due respect Judge, you have never tried to convince Kitty to do something she does not want to do."

The conversation drifted into pleasantries until the Judge stood up to take his leave.

"I'll be back this way in about six weeks, oh and meantime I'll arrange for someone to come to collect Billings and take him to state prison. You had best stay here in town for a while." He took his watch from his pocket and looked at the time. "If I'm going to catch the Wichita stage, I best be leaving."

"I'll walk down there with you." Matt took his hat from the peg by the door and followed the judge out onto Front Street.

The rest of the day was quiet. Matt spent most of the time in his office filing reports and looking through a new stack of wanted posters. Towards evening he made his way to the Long Branch to find Kitty and take her to supper.

For once their meal was not interrupted, but somehow Matt found that pleasant conversation was beyond him.

Kitty reached her hand across the table and gently laid it on his arm.

"You know I'm not leaving town don't you."  
"That's why I didn't even ask, but I do want you to be careful, I know something is going to happen. Gannon is not going to let this go."

It was much later that night that he was making rounds. He stopped by the depot to watch the late night stage leave for Pueblo. As he suspected Gannon got on it. He looked straight at the Marshal but no words were spoken between them.

Once the stage had left he made his way back to his usual last stop –the Long Branch – and hoped that he would be able to find some warmth and comfort for the night. Of course the saloon owner was waiting for him with much the same idea.

End


End file.
